


Our Own Traditions

by snowbellewells



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27269236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowbellewells/pseuds/snowbellewells
Summary: The Jones family trick-or-treats with the rest of Storybrooke family and friends, the happiness a tradition they hope to carry from now on...
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Emma Swan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Our Own Traditions

**Author's Note:**

> Second offering for a CS Halloweek event, this is meant to be set in the time between the Season Six finale and Henry’s leaving to go seek his own story. I have had Killian and Emma have a child much sooner, but other than that, I don’t think things are too out of line with canon. Of course I don’t own them, or we would have gotten to see a lot more fluff like this onscreen! Please enjoy – I’d love to hear what you think!

“Morgan, come on!” Henry’s exasperated 17-year-old voice, deepened and lowered over the last couple of years in a way that sometimes surprises his stepfather still – to say nothing of the mother who can’t believe how fast the few years they’ve had together have flown and has to constantly remind herself not to hold on to tightly as Henry looks at colleges for the following fall – rumbles with impatience and fond consternation as he kneels next to his three-year-old sister to wrangle her into the black and white striped leggings she had been determined to wear not even an hour before.

Killian Jones is already on the way to rescue his poor, beleaguered stepson before even Henry’s almost-endless well of patience is exhausted, but he can’t help pausing to shake his head with a chuckle at the petulant response he hears from his stubborn daughter before he does so. His booted tread in the upstairs hallway stops just beyond the open door of Morgan Ruth Jones’ room, listening for a moment to the sounds he never dreamed he would get to hear – not after his life had spun so far off course for so long, longer than any mortal man should be allowed to get back on course – the voices of children of his own, his family.

The rise in pitch and volume, and the clear sound of little stamping feet – a definite sign that his bullheaded tyke’s determination is nowhere near abating, pulls the former pirate captain from his reverie and into the fray. Upon setting foot in the deeply purple-bedecked room, (it’s the color of royalty, Morgan had informed him archly when he’d asked her why everything must be purple), he sees his little girl’s lower lip jutting out and her face scrunching up in preparation for a full-on pout, while she shakes her head side-to-side in adamant refusal and yells once more, “No, Henwy! Nooo!” She points her chubby little finger at the offending article of costume clothing once more, as imperious as a half-dressed toddler can possibly be. “I’m a piwate queen! Those are for silly clowns!”

Henry heaves a long-suffering sigh. Killian can see his ever-broadening young man shoulders rise and fall with the action, and he again marvels at his stepson’s fortitude and good heartedness – most teenagers simply wouldn’t bother with a so much younger sibling, or their tempers would have long since sparked and led them to storm off in disgust. Though Killian cannot see the lad’s face, he can easily picture how Henry must be biting down on his lower lip in consternation, the way he does when either holding back a sharp retort or concentrating hard.

Making his presence known with a cleared throat and carefully arched brow, Killian swaggers into the room, turning on a mere fraction of the bluster and bravado he marshalled in his early days as Captain of the Jolly Roger, when he was still proving himself and making it known he was not to be crossed. Directing a steady eye at his daughter, he calls out, “What have we here? Dissent amongst me crew?”

Henry turns partially to look over a shoulder at him, smirking despite the honest gratitude in his eyes. Clearly the lad is about to reach the end of his rope in dealing with an obstinate three-year-old. Killian gives him a nod, and Henry stands quickly, sweeping out of the room with the dramatic help of the heavy red velvet cape draped over his shoulders – his whole outfit a loving parody of his grandfather in full kingly Enchanted Forest attire.

“Now, Lassie,” Killian intones, his voice sounding serious, but his eyebrows waggling playfully at the same time, not for anything wishing to genuinely scare her. “What seems to be the trouble? I’ll wager you have just cause for giving my trusty first mate such trouble?”

Morgan dips her head, a mixture of hiding her eyes as she often does when she knows she’s been willful, and in bashful response to the complete pirate act he is putting on. She almost giggles, but then, with a solemnity that surprises him and seems almost beyond her years, she looks back up to her papa – and he is glad that she still sees him beneath the façade, no matter what – eyes wide and sincere and answers, “He was trying to make me wear these!” She wrinkles her nose and holds up the striped leggings, which would really look quite striking with all the red and black in her outfit, if Killian did say so himself. However, his little marauder’s face is scrunched up in complete disgust. “They aren’t fit for a piwate queen!” she protests heatedly.

Now it is Killian who has to bite back laughter at her vehemence and the affront written all over her face. The tyke has been set on being a pirate this Hallow’s Eve since the odd double feature of the demented Mr. Disney’s Peter Pan and Pirates of the Caribbean which Henry had suggested slyly one Friday movie night back in May. He still shudders at the depiction of himself in the first film, but Morgan – whom they had not even thought was watching at the time – had become seemingly captivated by the sea, ships, and everything pirate, ever since.

Killian kneels at her level, forcing complete seriousness into his voice and managing to master the humor he feels at the whole episode. Reaching out with hook and hand, he snags the offending tights that he knows for a fact his beloved wife had chosen for how cute she had thought they’d be with Morgan’s pirate costume, as well as for how warm they would be while they were traipsing around town trick-or-treating in the chill Autumn air. With his hand at her back pulling her in close, Killian holds the tights up on his hook before his daughter’s eyes. “You believe these are not pirate garb?” he questions, preparing his story so as to make it utterly convincing.

Morgan shakes her head stoutly, clearly ready to argue if anyone thinks they are going to make her wear something she doesn’t want. However, a look of slight doubt appears on her brow, as if she is curious in spite of herself. Her papa is after all her favorite pirate.

“Well,” he tilts his head, giving his little lass one of his best rakish grins, “I’ll have you know that Mr. Smee, my right hand man on the ship for years, had long underwear he wore in the winter months which were striped just like these. Bill Jukes once nettled him within an inch of his life after Smee split his pant seams in back and all aboard saw his “fancy skivvies” as Jukes put it. Poor man never did live them down, but he refused to part with the things either. Said nothing else had ever kept him half as warm as those when the truly icy winds blew in off the water.”

“Really?” Morgan asks, still looking a bit dubious, but now studying the tights he holds out to her with renewed interest.

“Aye. Really,” he affirms with a nod.

“Alright then,” she concedes, reaching out to take the leggings and then plopping down on her rump to pull the stretchy material over her feet and up her chunky toddler legs beneath the gathered black skirt, red shirt, and black vest that all work to compliment the eye patch covering her right eye (and half her face) and the red bandana tied around her wild, dark hair so much like his.

“Now your pirate boots, me hearty,” Killian offers, sliding them over to speed the process now that he has her cooperation. He knew that Emma had intended them to already be at Granny’s by now, where they were meeting her parents with little Neal, Ashley and Sean Herman with Alexandra, as well as Philip and Aurora with their little boy to go trick-or-treating as a group. Their first stop was the library to pick up Belle and Gideon, now nearly five and curiously anxious for them all to see his costume Belle had told them the other day with cryptic mischief in her voice. Killian was somewhat dreading what the child of the Dark One might decide to dress as for Halloween, and had tried to prepare himself to take yet another highly unflattering portrayal of himself in good grace, and yet he couldn’t begrudge them letting mother and son join their party. He knew Gold would not deign to dress up and parade around town with such frivolous intent and mingle with those he deemed beneath him. Now that Gideon was once more a child the correct age and not out to hurt his Swan, Killian had no issue with him; in fact, the lad was quite good hearted – sweet and engaging – clearly taking after his mother. And he always enjoyed Belle’s company, more than almost any other except his lovely wife, and welcomes a chance to spend a couple of hours talking with her as they follow their children and friends around Storybrooke, catching up with her and seeing that she is indeed well, even if she is married to his Crocodile.

“Avast ye lubber!” Morgan calls out loudly and effectively shattering his thoughts. She rockets to her feet with a chortle of glee at the pirate insult she knows she has flung at him, and now bounces anxiously on the balls of her little booted feet, ready to go at last.

“That’s Captain to you, Matey!” Killian teasingly chastises, standing once again himself and passing the rather authentic-looking plastic cutlass to her at the door, finishing off her adorably fierce look, much to Morgan’s clear delight. 

Clapping her tiny hands happily, Morgan grins and practically squeals with excitement, finally betraying the pirate persona she has clung to and looking like the ecstatic little girl she is. “Up, Papa!” she commands, lifting her arms and wildly brandishing the toy weapon he barely dodges while bending to swing her up into his arms.

“Is that an order, My Queen?” he asks, holding her slight weight with his good arm, while playfully poking her stomach with the dull curve of his hook, causing her to dissolve in laughter and throw her arms around his neck. Her breath is warm on his skin and her tiny button nose presses in close to his ear snugly.

“Yes, Daddy,” she says softly, stroking gentle, childish fingers over his neck and giggling once more, obviously both pleased with herself and his response. By now they are clattering down the stairs, and he can see both Emma and Henry waiting for them at the front door. 

Emma gives Henry a shrug as if to say, ‘at least he’s finally got her ready to go’, ruffles her son’s hair in a way he doesn’t often allow anymore, and then steps forward, smiling at her husband wryly and reaching up to right Morgan’s eye patch where it has gone a bit askew. Now standing before them, she runs her thumb tenderly over the old scar on his cheek, as she speaks. “Is the Queen of the Pirates finally satisfied?” she asks with equal seriousness, having learned the hard way not to upset their daughter’s good moods when they have them, as Morgan is both as passionate and stubborn as her mother and her father combined and as likely to fly into a temper as to charm them.

Morgan nods, raising her plastic sword toward the front door, which Henry has opened and waits beside, clearly beyond ready to get going at last. “Onward!” she commands, bouncing in Killian’s arms as if to urge him forward. 

Once they move off down the porch steps and up the sidewalk toward the center of town, Killian leans over to whisper in his wife’s ear, “Sorry it took us so long, Love. She needed a bit of convincing that the tights were proper buccaneering attire. I hope by the time this evening is finished you still feel all this was worth your trouble procuring costumes and clearing your schedule to set up.”

Emma merely smiles back at him, staring up into his eyes as she takes his hook in her hand, leaning into his side while they walk. “It already is, Killian. Look at this. We have a family, both of us. I never had this as a kid. I know you didn’t either, but now… for Henry a little while yet, and for Morgan…we can give them what we wished for. We can give them traditions all our own. Thank you for that.”

Killian bends to press a quick kiss to her brow, causing a “blech!” exclamation from a dismissive Morgan that they both completely ignore. “Thank you, Emma,” he returns, the smile on his face adoring and soft enough to stop her breath in her throat. “I love you – and this life we have – more than I can rightly say.”

As the night goes on, their whole motley crew gaily pillages and plunders the town of all its delicious goodies, earning delighted exclamations for their creative dress and festive spirit. Granny sends the adults who desire it on their way with rum-spiked hot chocolate, a wink to the former pirate as she bestows his on him giving away her rarely-won affection. Garnering the most laughter and applause of all is young Gideon Gold, dressed – to everyone’s surprise – in a head-to-toe green outfit that Belle has clearly sewn herself, as an actual toothy crocodile, complete with ticking alarm clock tucked under one arm. Killian has to tip his hat to the boy, and his gumption – though he wisely refrains from asking if Gideon’s father saw his outfit or what might have been Rumplestitltskin’s response.

Long past midnight, when the revelry is through and all are tucked in bed, Killian and Emma have a bit of adult dress-up and plundering of their own, introducing yet another tradition that neither of them would object to upholding for years to come. The following Halloween, they have a three-month-old to outfit and take with them on their yearly trick-or-treating venture, but if anyone else questions them, neither Savior nor Captain admit to that being anything more than a happy coincidence.


End file.
